. She speedily reached her own abode,—a little cottage, standing in the outskirts of the village. There were moments when she doubted whether the whole mass of movements and societies and gatherings and talks was not simply one coherent spectacle of failure protecting itself from abjection by the glamour of its own assertions. She located her foster family. That is what I’ve had on my conscience. She required no instructions from books; her wit and beauty were her own.
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